Maintinece
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Malik's trying to have a day off but Adam's painted himself into another corner and needs help getting out of it. One shot, Malik and Adam close friendship.


Malik had one foot propped up on her desk, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she squinted at her pinky toe. _Last one—_ she thought, brow furrowed as she leaned forward and steadied her hand, pausing to roll her sweatpants back up and get re-adjusted.

The window was cracked and a pleasantly cool breeze came through and swept across her bare back. Living alone had its perks, especially on the higher floors of the Chiron building where the air smelled a little cleaner, and she was wearing nothing but her sports bra and a pair of faded sweatpants from flight school. She took a deep breath, re-positioned her foot, and moved the tiny brush back to her nail. She was millimeters from a perfect brushstroke when her communicator rang loudly.

She jumped and her hand spazzed just enough to spill gold nail polish all across her desk. She glared at the smudge running down her toe and sighed, glancing over at the communicator.

"Gorgeous timing, spy boy," she said, capping what was left of the polish and giving up on ever having perfectly painted toenails. She clicked the phone on.

"You boys don't know how to handle my days off, do you?"

Adam was quiet for a moment on the other end. "Sorry Malik." He sounded sheepish. Almost embarrassed. She slid her foot to the floor and sat up a little straighter. It took a lot to embarrass Adam.

"Hey, it's okay," she assured, wondering if she should be worried. "I was just reminding myself why I'm a pilot and not a spa manager. What's up?"

"I—" he hesitated again and then she started to worry. "I kinda need your help. If…if you don't mind. If you're busy it can wait. I'll get it on my own. Probably." He paused. "Eventually."

He did not sound convinced.

"Okay, come on over, I'll be ready in two minutes," she said, frowning and getting up, casting her gaze around for a clean enough shirt. Not that it mattered if Adam saw her like this, not really.

"I can't."

He mumbled it so frustratedly that she wasn't sure what he'd said at first. She paused, planting her hand on her hip.

"You can't? Why not? Adam, are you okay? Are you hurt? Because if you hid an injury after the last flight out _again_ "

"No-no. I'm not injured. I just can't walk right now. Can you come to my apartment?"

"Adam! Can't walk sounds like injured!" Malik scolded, snatching up a white tank top and shrugging it on one-armed.

"Not when you have metal legs!" He exclaimed. "Look, can you please just come up here? The door has your code now, so you can let yourself in. I'm in the bathroom." He sounded almost pained.

"Okay, I'll be right there," she said, clicking the phone off and pocketing it.

Adam was sitting on the toilet in his boxers and nothing else. His window was cracked as well so Malik's email about the heating being broken and overzealous wasn't just her. She stood in his doorway trying to understand what she was seeing.

"Adam—I don't think that's supposed to come off," she said hesitantly, staring at the end of Adam's leg where the front half of his foot was supposed to be. Instead of being attached, the two-toed chunk of black and gold was in Adam's hand.

"Hi Malik," he said wearily, and she could have sworn he looked flushed. And it wasn't from the heat. He was holding a multi-tool in the other hand, one specialized for augmented prosthetics. "It's not supposed to come off but the pads on the bottom were wearing thin and I needed to replace them so David gave me those—" he jabbed his multi tool like a weapon towards a pile of tech sitting on the counter "And I was supposed to install them myself. But one of the lubricant lines quit working a while ago and I forgot and part of my foot was stuck in place and I couldn't get the pads off to replace them so then I ended up taking the whole front off and now I can't get the sensors switched out or everything back together," he finished, taking a huge breath and looking slightly desperate.

Malik pursed her lips very hard to keep from laughing and crossed her arms. "Adam," she managed finally when she trusted herself to speak without cackling. "You're supposed to get these maintenanced every six months or so, right? Especially with the kind of wear you put in."

"That's regular grade," he muttered, prying with visibly growing frustration at the soft pad half peeled away from the toes of his foot. "These are different. High grade. Close to self-repair. This stuff almost heals itself."

"You're just quoting Sarif now aren't you."

He didn't look at her. "Yes." He sighed, resting the piece of his foot and the tool in his lap. "But everything has been working fine and with everything going on I just kept…putting it off."

"With a broken lubricant line," she deadpanned.

"Only one!" He exclaimed, looking up and gesturing with the piece of his foot. "Can you just help me please?"

She couldn't help it then. She chuckled a little and held out her hand. "Give me your foot."

He looked immensely relieved and handed it over.


End file.
